The Council of the Cursed

by Peter Tremayne

  His last remark was addressed to Brother Benevolentia, who was standing by looking impatient.

  ‘Am I needed further?’ Benevolentia asked. ‘I have things to attend to, for Bishop Ordgar.’

  It was Eadulf who dismissed him for there was no further assistance that he required.

  Eadulf waited while the physician bathed his leg. With the blood washed away, Brother Gebicca regarded the wound.

  ‘A small cut and some abrasions,’ he commented. ‘Nothing that won’t heal quickly, but there will be some bruising. How did it happen?’

  ‘I was in the old passage of statues and one of the statues fell.’

  Brother Gebicca looked surprised. ‘You were in the forbidden gallery?’

  ‘I believe that is what it is called.’

  ‘Bishop Leodegar has forbidden the brethren to use it. Why were you there?’ the physician asked. Then, as Eadulf hesitated, he said: ‘No, don’t tell me. Hold still while I cleanse and bind this wound.’

  Heart beating fast, Fidelma went on all fours and peered over the edge of the galley to the mosaic floor below. From the position of the head of the fallen religieux, there was no need to consider whether the young man was dead or not. Voices were calling from below and two of the brethren including, she noticed with surprise, Brother Benevolentia, were below, bending over the fallen body. Fidelma pulled back quickly in case they saw her, and breathed deeply to recover from the shock of what had happened.

  Then she was on her feet and moving swiftly back along the gallery. She tried not to think of the young man. She had confirmed what she had suspected and, if further confirmation had been needed, she now knew that at least one of the brethren was involved in an attempt to kill them. Then she realised that there must be others. The thought made her pause as she came to the head of the stairwell. If she went down now, she would immediately be seen. Perhaps another potential killer was among them. It suddenly occurred to her that there was also only her word that he had tried to push her to her death.

  She looked around, wondering if there was a way of avoiding the noisy group of religieux who had been joined by others around the dead body below. The wooden-floored gallery continued on beyond the stairwell. She followed it and after a while came to a second stairwell. This, surely, would place her beyond the view of the corridor. She made her way carefully down and, at the bottom, emerged into part of the abbey kitchens. Fortunately, there was no one about. She moved swiftly across to a door that provided an exit into the main courtyard before the chapel, then turned and hurried towards the apothecary’s house.

  Eadulf was having his wound dressed when she entered. He looked relieved to see her. There was a question in his eyes but she ignored him.

  ‘Is it serious?’ she asked Brother Gebicca.

  ‘A fraction more and the muscle might have been sliced; a little further and Brother Eadulf would have been unable to complain,’ he remarked cheerfully, as he applied a poultice of mosses to ensure that the blood coagulated in healthy fashion. Then he proceeded to bind it with strips of white linen. He stood back and glanced at Eadulf. ‘I don’t suppose it is any use to tell you that you should rest now to allow the healing process to start?’

  ‘I shall walk with a stick if I have to,’ Eadulf declared.

  ‘I would advise against it,’ Brother Gebicca replied seriously. ‘You do not want to invite further injury or the bloodflow to turn bad. Wait a few days and allow the wound to heal. As for you,’ he chided Fidelma, ‘you should have rested for a longer period.’

  Having finished binding the wound, Brother Gebicca excused himself to go in search of a salve that he said would help if applied to the other scratches that the falling stone had caused to Eadulf’s leg.

  Alone, Brother Eadulf was studying Fidelma’s expression. Her look told him that she knew something but would not say anything until they had complete privacy. He was about to speak but, at that moment, Brother Chilperic came bursting into the physician’s room. He stared anxiously at Eadulf.

  ‘I heard that you had been injured by a falling statue.’

  ‘It is nothing. Just scratches.’

  ‘I was told there was a terrible accident in the…where the mason works. I was on my way there when one of the brethren saw you being helped here by Brother Benevolentia.’

  ‘That is true. A statue fell and I was hit by fragments, that is all.’ Just then, another of the brethren entered, obviously in search of Brother Chilperic.

  ‘The stonemason has been killed,’ he said without preamble. ‘You must come quickly!’

  With a muttered word, Brother Chilperic hurried out of the room.

  Eadulf turned to Fidelma in astonishment. ‘Did you hear that? The stonemason has been killed!’

  ‘I think they have found the body of the young Brother who just tried to kill me,’ Fidelma responded quietly. ‘This religieux saw that I was suspicious when I went to examine the place from where the statue fell. He tried to push me from the same spot. Instead he fell and broke his neck.’

  ‘What?’ Eadulf could not help the exclamation.

  Just then, Brother Gebicca re-entered bearing the jar of salve he had gone to fetch.

  ‘Did I hear you cry out in pain?’ he asked.

  Eadulf nodded. ‘I moved too quickly,’ he lied. ‘A moment’s thoughtlessness.’

  Brother Gebicca shook his head. ‘I told you to be careful, Brother.’ He held up the clay pot of ointment. ‘Now, from tomorrow you will apply this to your abrasions and they should heal quickly.’

  As he handed the pot to Eadulf, there was a knock on the door and Abbot Ségdae entered. He looked anxious.

  ‘There is a report that a statue fell and that a Brother was killed. I was told Brother Eadulf was brought here. Are you both all right?’

  Fidelma nodded. ‘As you see, Abbot Ségdae. Eadulf was nearly caught by the falling statue and is mildly injured by fragments but certainly not killed.’

  ‘But one of the brethren has just assured me that he has seen a body…’

  At that moment, Brother Chilperic re-entered slightly out of breath. Brother Gebicca frowned with annoyance.

  ‘Everyone seems to be making free of my apothecary. Is this to be the new meeting hall?’ he complained.

  Brother Chilperic was trying to recover his breath. ‘I came to get you, Brother Gebicca,’ he gasped. ‘Brother Andica has been killed. Please come at once.’

  ‘Brother Andica–the stonemason?’ Brother Gebicca looked amazed. ‘How did that happen?’ he asked, as he turned to find his physician’s bag.

  ‘It seems that he fell from the very alcove where the statue fell,’ said Brother Chilperic. He was regarding Fidelma and Eadulf somewhat suspiciously. ‘Did either of you see a member of the brethren in the alcove before you left?’

  Fidelma decided that in the circumstances mendacity was a better path to follow. ‘Apart from Brother Benevolentia who helped Eadulf here, there was no one. Perhaps this Brother…?’

  ‘Brother Andica. He was one of our stonemasons,’ replied the steward. ‘Brother Eadulf was asking about him only yesterday.’

  ‘That is true,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘I had just met him coming from the women’s community and wondered who he was.’

  ‘He must have gone up to the gallery to investigate why the statue fell, lost his footing and gone over the edge to his death,’ suggested Fidelma.

  ‘This is a great tragedy.’ Brother Chilperic was clearly upset.

  ‘Some of the brethren heard a cry and when they rushed into the corridor, he was lying in the debris with his neck broken by the fall.’

  Brother Gebicca sniffed. It seemed a habit with him.

  ‘I will say what is broken and what is not. I am the physician and no one has consulted me yet. I am finished with the Saxon Brother so I will go to have a look at Brother Andica. Rest as much as you can, Brother Eadulf. And you, Sister Fidelma, should also be resting with that leg of yours. Come, Brother Chilperic.’

&nb
sp; Brother Chilperic gave a deep sigh. ‘I thought Brother Andica was too experienced to make a mistake like that,’ he said as he was leaving. ‘He has been working on the roof and towers of this abbey for many years.’

  ‘It is just sad when a young man falls to his death before he has had time to live,’ Fidelma reflected.

  Brother Gebicca called impatiently and the steward turned again with an apology and left.

  ‘Another death in the abbey,’ Abbot Ségdae said, ‘but at least this one is clearly an accident.’

  Eadulf, who had been sitting patiently, now stirred.

  ‘Forgive me, I feel quite fatigued,’ he said. ‘I must go to our room and rest a while.’

  At once, Abbot Ségdae was apologetic and helped Eadulf negotiate the stairs of the hospitia to their chamber.

  After they had been left alone, Fidelma turned with some eagerness to him and told him exactly what had happened. Eadulf was horrified.

  ‘He actually attempted to kill you?’ he gasped. ‘But why? What reason could there be? And why push the statue down on us in the first place?’

  She looked at him sorrowfully. ‘Aren’t we investigating a murder?’ she asked. ‘If this Andica was involved, then that is reason enough. It means, also, that we are close to our quarry.’

  ‘But why would the local stonemason be mixed up in Dabhóc’s death?’

  ‘To be honest, I cannot see the connection between Dabhóc’s death and the disappearance of the women from the Domus Femini. All right, Sister Valretrade was on her way to meet Brother Sigeric, or Sigeric was on his way to meet her, when the body of Dabhóc was discovered. She disappeared after that. But it seems she was not the only one to do so.’

  ‘Often, in an investigation, one gets a feeling that something is not right. One has to follow that feeling until it is explained or dismissed,’ Eadulf said, and then contradicted himself. ‘Of course, intuition can also be wrong,’ he added.

  ‘Often the feeling is not intuition but the accumulation of facts in the dim recesses of the mind,’ Fidelma said. ‘They remain there in shadows until another fact or event causes them to fit into place. For instance, the disappearances, the behaviour of the abbess and her steward, the connection with Lady Beretrude and our friend Verbas of Peqini, Brother Andica’s attempt to kill us and the missing reliquary box…I see the strands, but they need something to connect them all together.’

  ‘Maybe there is no connection,’ pointed out Eadulf.

  ‘Then we must establish that and move on,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But how?’ She suddenly groaned. ‘Ron baithaigeis hí!’

  ‘And why do you consider yourself a great fool?’ Eadulf asked, surprised.

  ‘Lord Guntram.’

  Eadulf was none the wiser and said so.

  ‘I had forgotten about him,’ Fidelma said. ‘Remember, he was in the next chamber to where the murder was committed? He is also the son of Lady Beretrude. We haven’t even bothered to question him.’

  ‘From what Brother Chilperic said, he was drunk. So drunk he could not even return to his fortress that night. We were told that he had not seen or heard anything because he was in no condition to do so.’

  ‘That’s assumption, Eadulf,’ Fidelma rebuked. ‘You know that it is my philosophy that one must never assume facts. And I nearly fell into that error. That is why I am a fool.’

  ‘We will have to find out where Guntram can be found.’

  ‘Easily done.’ She stood up quickly. ‘Rest here and recover a while. I will be back shortly.’

  Before he had time to protest, she was gone.

  Eadulf limped to the adjacent wash room, removed his dusty and torn clothing and washed the dirt of the statue from his body before putting on a clean robe and stretching out on the bed.

  Fidelma, meanwhile, had made her way to the anticum. Brother Chilperic was there. His expression was moody.

  ‘It seems that Brother Gebicca agrees that the death was an accident,’ he greeted her. ‘Brother Andica must have gone to examine how the statue fell, lost his footing and plunged to his death. It is very sad. He was a patriotic Burgund and he was a very good stonemason. The Lady Beretrude will be upset when I send her word.’

  Fidelma tried not to show her sudden interest; an interest that made her almost forget the point of her coming to find the steward.

  ‘Why would Lady Beretrude be upset?’ she enquired.

  ‘Because she has employed Brother Andica to do some work on her villa. I do not think the work is finished. He has spent much time there during the last two weeks.’

  Fidelma absorbed the information and then murmured some appropriate condolence about the stonemason’s death before asking: ‘Do you know where I might find the Gaul, Brother Budnouen?’

  Brother Chilperic peered round distractedly, as if searching for the man in question.

  ‘You have just missed him, I think. He was in the square with his wagon a moment ago. What do you…?’

  But Fidelma was already gone through the great doors and into the main square.

  In fact, Brother Budnouen was still outside the abbey doors, tightening the straps on the harness of his mules. He face wore his usual affable grin as he saw her racing towards him.

  ‘You look in a hurry, Sister Fidelma.’

  Fidelma halted breathlessly. ‘Have you made your trip to Lord Guntram’s fortress yet?’ she gasped. ‘You said the other day that you were due to go there to do some trade.’

  ‘Lord Guntam, is it? I thought you would want me to take you back to Nebirnum. I wouldn’t blame you if you did, not after what I hear about the happenings in this dark place.’

  ‘Please, have you been yet?’ pressed Fidelma, trying to keep her impatience in check.

  He shook his head. ‘I go tomorrow, just after first light. Why?’

  ‘Is his place far from here?’

  ‘Not at all. It is ten kilometres to the south west.’

  ‘Will you take us? Will you take Eadulf and me there and bring us back?’

  Brother Budnouen’s expression clearly showed that he thought her mad but he agreed anyway.

  ‘I never refuse the offer of company on these trips,’ he said. ‘I depart immediately after sunrise but I do not wish to stay long at his fortress. Long enough simply to deliver my goods and collect my money. I want to be back before nightfall.’

  ‘That would suit us well enough. Where shall we meet you?’

  ‘Right here, in the square.’

  ‘Then until tomorrow at sunrise,’ confirmed Fidelma. She was feeling much better now. It was not just because she wanted to see if Lord Guntram could remember anything of the events of the night of the murder, but also because he was Lady Beretrude’s son–and she wondered whether he could provide a key to unlocking the mystery which connected the events at the abbey.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After the events of the last few days it was actually pleasant to ride again on the wagon of Brother Budnouen and listen to his gossip as he guided his mule team south from Autun. The weather was pleasant; the sky blue with only a few fluffy white clouds seeming to hang unmoving high in the sky indicating there was no wind. The track moved through grassy fields dotted with grazing cattle and sheep. Before them was the dark edge of a forest. It seemed to stretch away in both directions towards the east and also to the west.

  They had not left the city walls that far behind when they saw, beside the track, a stone cabin and a forge with smoke rising from the chimneystacks. They could hear the smack of iron on hot iron before they saw a man beating at a glowing bar on his anvil while a small boy was working the bellows at the fire. As the wagon trundled past, Brother Budnouen raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘Give you a good day, Clodomar,’ he called.

  The smith thrust the iron bar back into the fire and rested his hammer.

  ‘You have not been by in many months, Brother Budnouen. Can you not stop for a cup of wine and an exchange of news?’ he called.

  ‘
I am going to Lord Guntram’s fortress but will try to stop on the way back later,’ replied the Gaul.

  The smith raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  ‘That was Clodomar the smith. He comes from a family of smiths. His brother has a forge in the city.’ Brother Budnouen jerked his thumb back to Autun. ‘Clodomar has chosen a good place to do business there, for many local farmers do not want to go into the confines of the city to get their work done.’

  They continued on towards the forest. As they entered its canopy, it was like moving from bright sunshine into a dank gloom.

  ‘This seems a large forest. How far does it stretch?’ asked Eadulf, interested in his surroundings.

  ‘From this point one can ride south and east and west for many days. There are some large clearings, of course. Lord Guntram has his fortress at the head of a valley whose surrounding hills are partly denuded of trees which, in fact, were used to construct his fortress.’

  ‘How far is this place?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘About five kilometres now, a straight run along the track. I have made the journey many times.’

  ‘So you know Lord Guntram well?’

  Brother Budnouen laughed. ‘“Well” is not a word I would choose. How can a lowly transporter of goods come to know a mighty lord like Guntram, a descendant of the Burgund kings?’

  ‘It seems several folk claim to be descendants of these Burgund kings,’ commented Fidelma dryly. ‘Do you know what manner of person Guntram is? We have heard one or two stories of his youth and drinking.’

  ‘His excesses are whispered everywhere in Burgundia. He is certainly a young man overly fond of strong drink, of women, and of hunting. Beyond that, I think he cares little for anything else.’

  ‘Then he must be a disappointment to Lady Beretrude,’ commented Fidelma.

  ‘That he is.’

  ‘Does he interfere in religious life in Autun?’

  Brother Budnouen grinned. ‘He wears religion like another person wears a coat. He can put it on and as easily remove it.’

  ‘He was staying in the abbey a week ago,’ Fidelma pointed out.